Dreams in Flames
by Amata le Fay
Summary: The girl on fire left an impression on them all-some with a burn, some without. Here's what the other tributes thought of Katniss Everdeen.
1. District One: Marvel Hoff

**Author's Note: Hey there! So this is a series of...drabbles? Oneshots? Drabble-shots? Note sure of the correct terminology here...anyway...from the tributes of the 74th Hunger Games' point of view, telling their opinions of Katniss. Doesn't sound great, I know, but worth a shot, right? Enjoy!**

_District One: Marvel Hoff_

District Twelve didn't bother me too much.

Sure, sure, they were the tributes on fire. That got them sponsors, but hardly anything else. Fancy costumes don't matter when killing is concerned. District Twelve seemed like the worst of the worst; I, being from District One, was quite certain I was the best of the best.

Katniss Everdeen got the highest training score. Big whup. If anything, that was bad for her. Told us she was a threat, to be eliminated as quickly as possible. Plenty of high-scoring tributes don't make it past the first day.

And the whole doomed love thing is utterly pathetic. It won't give them anything when they're facing the piercing point of my spear, breathing their last terrified breath.

Katniss meant nothing. I was going to win this.

**Everyone knows fanfiction writers live for the reviews.**


	2. District One: Glimmer Dee

_District One: Glimmer Dee_

Katniss Everdeen clearly doesn't know how to work a crowd.

I mean, everyone likes their victors to act like victors. To have a winning quality. The Capitol must love them.

And then, look at her. On the chariot, she's all smiling and waving while on fire. And then she goes and gets herself an 11, one better than Cato, the killing machine. Friendly _and_ a killing machine? Please. I don't see how that is going to work with the audience.

And here she is, at the interview, all twirly and giggly. Come on. How long will _that _last? Let me tell you-it won't. It won't make any sort of impression, except that she's silly, selfish, and shallow.

Being from District One, I know what the Capitol audiences want. They want a winner with the personality of a winner, whatever that might be. They want confident, and unafraid (Katniss is out here-did you _see_ how deathly scared she looked when she volunteered for that scrawny little sister?), someone who knows what they're doing, someone who is concentrated on the game (and not on their twirly dress.)

Katniss doesn't have it. And I do. So she's not going to be popular with the audience. And I know Capitol audiences.

**Not my best work, but I wanted to come up with an interesting angle for Glimmer. Like? Hate? Tell me. Everyone knows fanfiction writers live for the reviews.**


	3. District Two: Cato Senier

_District Two: Cato Senier_

From the moment I saw that flashing red 11 on the TV screen, I knew that I had to kill Katniss Everdeen.

And not just _kill_. Destroy. Obliterate. Make her suffer to the point of_ begging _me to kill her.

Why? Well, for one, she got a better score than me. A little girl from the pathetic little District Twelve has better chance of winning the Hunger Games than_ me? _If this weren't so serious a matter, it would be laughable. I was _born_ to win the Hunger Games.

This has been my whole life, and I'm not going to throw it away because of a District Twelve girl.

And it's not just the training score. Katniss is persistent, and might actually win this, if not for me. I am the only thing standing in between that girl and victory, and she is the only thing standing between me and mine.

She is almost my equal. And for that, she must die at my hands.

**Everyone knows fanfiction writers live for the reviews.**


	4. District Two: Clove Andersen

_District Two: Clove Andersen_

Katniss Everdeen. Katniss Everdeen. That's all Cato ever talked about-how he would kill Katniss Everdeen.

It made me sick.

I personally didn't see her as much of a problem. So she got the highest training score. So she dropped a tracker jacker nest on us, and blew up our supplies. Cato and I survived that, and it made us hate her even more.

We are Careers, and strong ones. We are a force to be reckoned with.

Cato's utter hatred must have transfered to me, because when they announced the Feast, I leapt at the chance to go and get rid of District Twelve for good.

_"One thing, Clove. Make it painful. Give the audience a show. Everdeen will die with the most pain she ever experienced."_

_"I'll cut up her face."_

_"And?"_

_"And carve our names into her forehead. And then kill her."_

Watch out, District Twelve. After today, you will have paid for Cato's pain, and District Two will emerge victorious.

**Wow, a longer one. All the Careers are starting to sound the same...but next up's District Three! And remember, everyone knows fanfiction writers live for the reviews.**


	5. District Three: Lewis Bergsten

**Author's Note: Couldn't come up with anything good, and my personal deadline was ticking. So this is hardly the best I can do with Lewis. Oh, well.**

_District Three: Lewis Bergsten_

The last thing I saw was that girl.

I'd known she was strong, probably going to make it to the end. At least going to make it further than me. What I didn't know was that she was going to be the cause of my death.

The girl on fire destroyed my traps. She set off my mines. She exploded the chances of victory.

Those lovely mines! They were my last hope. They were what brought me this far, what I had worked so hard for. They were my chance to show the world that a factory boy from District Three can change the course of the Games-possibly forever. They made an impact.

And already, that girl had set them off. My dreams were reduced to rubble.

**Everyone knows fanfiction writers live for the reviews.**


	6. District Three: Emalee Carter

_District Three: Emalee Carter_

While Lewis was muttering something about synthetic fire and semi-flameproof fabric, I could not stop staring at those two children in the last chariot.

I mean, they were on fire! Glowing! Flaming! Shining-a bright beacon of what tributes should be, as the Capitol will most likely say.

And their faces. They were smiling. Confident. District Twelve almost never smiled on their chariots-Twelve and Three were alike in that regard. We did not want to be here, we knew we were going to die-but those two still managed to remain dignified and almost...happy. And the two of them were holding hands.

They could be friends and shine all the more for it...

I turned back to Lewis, visibly upset and immersing himself in talking about the technicalities of the costume, and sighed. District Three just _couldn't_ glow like those two, no matter how much I wished we could.

**This one was much harder than the others, mainly because we know absolutely nothing about the District Three girl. The phrasing also didn't come out the way I wanted it to...but let me know what you think. Everyone knows that fanfiction writers live for the reviews.**


	7. District Four: Hadrian Knight

**Author's Note: Hard one to write, this one...Okay, I'm taking suggestions. Names, opinions of Katniss, whatever. But I need all the help I can get! And now, on to the chapter...**

_District Four: Hadrian Knight_

District Twelve is supposed to die.

Not just because _I_ want her to die- because _everyone_ does. She is _the_ threat. Imagine how that come about! District Twelve, a threat to Careers!

Even the Capitol, even the Gamemakers agree. This is not the way things are supposed to be. Tributes are not supposed to publicly display their love, flaunt it in front of the Capitol. Overworked, underfed District Twelve-ers are not supposed to get 11s in training, excelling at everything they do. That girl screams of rebellion.

District Four is supposed to win, but obviously things are not going the way they are supposed to. Because here I am, lying in a pool of my own blood.

**Gentle readers, bring on the suggestions! And veryone knows that fanfiction writers live for les reviews!**


	8. District Four: Mira Wilkes

_District Four: Mira Wilkes_

I've always loved the innately poetic things in life, or so people tell me. I just think I have a good sense of what's ironic in life.

Like that girl, District Twelve. Everdeen, I think her name is. Girl on Fire. If my designer had come up with a slightly more memorable costume, I might have been the Girl in Water-no, the _Sea Nymph_. That sounds better.

Destiny told me what I had to do when I got into the arena.

And _Cato_ was giving _me_ of all people the perfect opportunity to douse her little flame. Yes!

...No. Poetry, irony, destiny has turned on me again. No, no, no...

_Who knew that fire could sting and singe the beach_

_So that the water retreats to the lowest tide?_

**Yeah, that last part was supposed to be poetic. Still taking suggestion, people! Everyone knows fanfiction writers live for the reviews!**


	9. District Five: Nikolass Kranz

**Author's Note: Hey there! Sorry about that little hiatus-I'm going to try to get at least one up every week now. But you know why I couldn't come up with anything for this one for so long? Yes, that's right... I didn't get any suggestions! (Oh, and just for the record, I write these in bunches, so if you, say, really want the District Eight girl to do something, you should ask me ahead of time.)**

_District Five: Nikolass Kranz_

I come from a district that values numbers. I am a person who understands numbers better than anyone else. The numbers, they speak to me. Knowing all their properties can tell you a lot about the kind of situation you're dealing with.

Take my training score, for example. Four. Four is the smallest composite number, its proper divisors being 1 and 2. Four is also a highly composite number. The next highly composite number is 6. Four is the second square number, the second centered triangular number. 4 is the smallest squared prime and the only even number in this form. It has an aliquot sum of 3 which is itself prime. The aliquot sequence of 4 has 4 members (4, 3, 1, 0) and is accordingly the first member of the 3-aliquot tree. Only one number has an aliquot sum of 4 and that is squared prime 9. The prime factorization of four is two times two.

I fit into a lot of things. I am also labeled a lot of things. But none of them really matter. I am just still four. People take me for granted.

Now take that Katniss Everdeen. The girl on fire. The girl who beat all the odds and got an eleven. Eleven is the first number which cannot be represented by a human counting their eight fingers and two thumbs additively. It is the 5th smallest prime number. It is the smallest two-digit prime number in the decimal base; as well as, of course, in undecimal (where it is the smallest two-digit number). It is also the smallest three-digit prime in ternary, and the smallest four-digit prime in binary, but a single-digit prime in bases larger than eleven, such as duodecimal, hexadecimal, vigesimal and sexagesimal. 11 is the fourth Sophie Germain prime, the third safe prime, the fourth Lucas prime, the first repunit prime, and the second Good prime.

Because it has a reciprocal of unique period length among primes, 11 is the second unique prime. Multiples of eleven by one-digit numbers all have matching double digits: 00 (=0), 11, 22, 33, 44, etc.

Four is taken for granted. Eleven stands out. Eleven makes an impression on all the single-digits it's multiplied by.

So far, 1679 children have died for the Capitol. That is a highly cototient number, a semiprime. Neither 4 nor 11 divides into that evenly.

But that doesn't really matter. Fours die. Elevens win. That's the way it goes. If my calculations are correct...

**I just realized that this had very little to do with Katniss, yet everything to do with Katniss. Huh.**

**Oh, and this one isn't as long as you think it is. I copied and pasted a lot of that number stuff from Wikipedia. What, you thought I **_**knew**_** that? I'm not **_**that**_** smart...**

**Everyone knows fanfiction writers live for the reviews, people!**


	10. District Five: Melanie Darrow or Foxface

_District Five: Melanie Darrow_

Ha! These people are all complete idiots!

Well, not _all_. And not _complete_, either. That District Three kid had _some_ wits around him, before he died. (Did District Two snap his neck or something?) But seriously? Putting mines around the food supply, where any bag of apples could tip over and blow up the whole pile? _Smart move_, Careers. Now you're going to have to scramble like the rest of us.

Speaking of scramble, I needed to find a new food supply. Maybe I shouldn't have been so dependent on them, after all.

_Salvage what you can, Mel,_ I think, sifting through the pile of ashes and producing a metal pot, a few knives, and-what's this? An arrow? What kind of airhead tries to shoot an arrow into a food supply? Trying to destroy it-a flaming arrow?

The airhead was lucky that the food blew up before they found it, or else they'd have been toast.

_Scram! _a voice tells me, just as I hear a faint rustle from a distance. I cock my head to the left and dart back to my den.

I go searching out for food and am rewarded by some wild berries-the ones that vendors sell to the community home every Friday as a treat, the ones that I used to steal just for fun. I was always greedy, and that hasn't changed. I ate half the bush.

The long stretches of inaction in the Hunger Games gave my rare opportunities to ponder. I contemplated the arrow that I had found, and tried to think of who was left in the Games. District One boy. District Two, both the boy and that girl-Clove, I think. District Ten-no, he was killed off yesterday. Tiny District Eleven girl, and her monster of a district partner. Peeta, from District Twelve, miraculously. And Katniss. Dear Lord, Katniss...

It made me sick, really. Beautiful, what with Peeta falling head over heels for her. Skilled, what with her famous 11 in training. Kind, considerate, tragic... and with little common sense, I figure. Did you see her twirling around in her sparky dress? I mean, come on. "That is the height of superficiality, my friends," I muttered absentmindedly, as I was prone to do during long periods of contemplation. As I felt certain that the cameras were hoping for me to say something dramatic next. I indulged them with a sigh. "Ah, for a world in which wit were appreciated. I think she'll be my next food supply, if she's a good hunter..."

Suddenly it clicked. Katniss has got to be a good hunter, as she hasn't shown any signs of viciousness. That was her skill. And what's the most common hunting weapon for the poor? Bow and arrow.

That was it. Katniss had shot an arrow into the Careers' food pyramid-and she probably had impeccable aim, to get an 11. Had she meant to knock something over, or done it my accident?

By accident, probably. Who could've guesssed that the mines were reset? Certainly not me. And now, from the explosin, she must be in some way crippled, be it her leg or her bow arm or her ear.

The perfect victim is the one who thinks they're the cleverest person in the world.

**Wow, these are getting increasingly longer...but expect drabble-length for the next several, since I have to invent characters. Don't forget to suggest, and everyone knows fanfiction writers live for the reviews.**


	11. District Six: Vincent Ceranada

_District Six: Vincent Ceranada_

Usually, it's only the Career Districts that volunteer for the Hunger Games. This year, there were two others. One of them was me. The other one was Katniis Everdeen, who volunteered so her little sister would not be sentenced to death.

Oh, Katniss, don't you think I would have done the same if I could have?

That's all I want to tell her. Well, actually, I want to tell her everything-about Bella and her smiling face and her freckles and curly auburn hair; about how that smiling face twisted into a look of horror and terror when she was reaped; about how I tried to get someone-anyone-to volunteer, and how District Six had left us with silence; about the shadow of the Cornucopia obscuring her face as she screamed her last word, and about her body, bloody and broken from the swing of an ax. I wanted to tell Katniss about how much my family has suffered-and about how miserable I was that I had volunteered to go into the Games, just to die for her. I wanted the girl on fire to understand how much I admire her and fear for her.

She _has_ to understand.

**Hello everybody! I'm wishing you a happy National Punctuation Day as it comes to a close, and reminding you to click the lovely green button right below this message, because goodness knows I am dying inside every evening from sheer lack of reviews. (By the way, suggestions are still open for D8 boy, D9 girl, and both of D10. Hurry, hurry, hurry!)**


	12. District Six: Lissamelle Mantre

**Author's Note: **_**This**_**, my friends, is how a fanfiction dies. From neglect, on both the author's and the reviewers' part. But I am going to fight until the last chapter here, and I promise you, **_**this fic will be finished**_**, if not right away.**

_District Six: Lissamelle Mantre_

"So, Lissamelle, why do you think you can win these games?"

This gives me pause, because I _know_ I can't. I have no skills that would help me survive a day. What would I do-put on a play that distracts all the tributes while I grab supplies from the Cornucopia? Yeah, right.

"Lissamelle?"

I choose my words carefully. "I think...that the rest of these people don't quite understand. This is a real situation, yes, but it's also a televised play of sorts for the audience. I'm willing to play whatever part I need to play, and I'll play it until the end."

And _that_ is how a girl of great potential utterly destroys her chances of survival. I could see my mentor shaking her head. Well, at least I tried.

The other tributes go by. I barely notice them-they all seem either scared or superficial. No one is acting realistically.

The District Eleven girl has an appeal to her. She's dressed very gracefully, and continues that angle all the way through her interview.

Katniss Everdeen, the District Twelve girl who was on fire, is a disappointment. She's likable but shallow. Forgettable, except for the fact that she volunteered, that she got an 11, and that her costume was flaming. She's a bad actress, though, and I can tell that she's holding back a lot of her natural aggression and determination. If she's lucky, the audience will sense it, too.

The boy from her District has a natural way with words that will get him far with the sponsors. He and Caesar are speaking about those who the boy loves-an attempt to be serious-when I hear the words: "She came here with me."

I look up at the boy, and I can tell that he's not acting for the crowds anymore. His face is the face of a man telling the complete truth and trying to turn it into an act.

**Meh, not my best, but whatever. Let me know what you think, press the lovely blue link under this message and review-because we all know authors live for them.**


	13. District Seven: Justin Hanndel

_District Seven: Justin Hanndel_

These people are despicable.

Not the normal ones, like me and Macha and all the other tributes from the poor districts. The Careers. The wealthy ones. The ones who enjoy killing just for the fun and potential glory of it. It's monstrous, what they do in those Districts. And every year, we have to die at their hands.

I especially despise that boy from District Two. He's bloodthirsty, you can tell. He doesn't have a conscience when it comes to slaughter. He doesn't deserve to win.

I don't deserve to win, either. It wouldn't be fair-a person with a training score of 2 winning the Hunger Games? I would have to hide out and wait for everybody to kill each other off. And that's not honorable. That's what cowards do.

Even though I know it's hopeless, I want to kill the monster, Cato. It doesn't have to be me, if just has to be someone. He has to die, as horribly and brutally as how he's going to kill all those other kids.

I see a training score flash by on the screen. 11-the girl from District Twelve. A smile tugs at the corner of my lips, and I know that juistice will be served.

**Everyone knows fanfiction writers live for the reviews.**


	14. District Seven: Macha Kalitlin

_District Seven: Macha Kalitlin_

It's not fair.

It's not fair how the tiny little girl who was chosen for District Twelve has an older, stronger sister who was willing to take her place, while I have no one.

It's not fair how the older sister literally outshines me as we parade around on the chariots, the girl on fire, while I am standing there dressed as an elm tree.

It's not fair how, during the interview, her district partner claims he loves her, gaining all the sympathies of the audience, while I go overlooked. And it's not fair that he actually does love her, and she doesn't realize how lucky she is to have someone loving her and looking out for her, while I am alone in the universe.

And it's not fair how I will die before I get the chance to tell her all that.

**I actually wrote this around the same time I was writing the Careers, just because I was getting so sick of them... Okay, you know the drill, click the lovely link right below this message, because everyone knows fanfiction writers live for the reviews.**


	15. District Eight: Troy Onika

_District Eight: Troy Onika_

I am utterly unimpressed with everything I see here.

They treat it as a problem, my mentors do. "Come on, Troy," they say, "you have to have some kind of feeling about this!"

I probably do, deep down in my heart somewhere. But right now, I want to be as far away from that emotion as possible. They don't understand-probably because they want me to be _somebody_ for the cameras, a person with an opinion, with feelings; and I'm trying to turn myself away from that. I'll be losing my humanity soon, one way or another, so why bother to bring up any emotion now? And so I build myself a wall of ice and apathy, which will either help me win the games or nullify the pain of death.

Caesar Flickerman tried to penetrate my wall, but he couldn't do it. The sponsors will either see me as more than any old tribute or less than a person. I don't know which one I want; all I know is that the Hunger Games heightens emotions and then freezes them.

District Twelve should know that, but still they continue with their love game. Can't they see what will happen to it after a week, a month in the arena? It will have to freeze, or they will die together. No Hunger Games victor makes it out of that arena whole-they're always a little bit broken, frozen, or insane.

Detach yourself ahead of time, girl on fire. Save yourself the heartache.

**This felt so strained...but I'm putting it up anyway. Let me know what you think of the concept, how I could word things better, etc., because everyone knows fanfiction writers live for the reviews!**


	16. District Eight: Alys Hall

_District Eight: Alys Hall_

I've always been fascinated by light. Or maybe it's more fear of the dark. I don't know.

In District Eight, we don't have all that much electricity, being so far from the other districts as we are, and what little electricity we have is used for the certain machines that need it and the televisions. We only get full electricity when the Hunger Games are on, so during the winter, our primary source of light is the candle and the flaming hearth.

Fire brings light. Fire brings heat. I respect that.

I understood District Twelve's stylist's choice very well. Fire, burning coals. Light radiating off of every inch of those tributes' bodies. A wonderful, bold choice.

That's why I've decided to follow Katniss Everdeen. Oh, she doesn't know I'm here. She probably hasn't ever noticed me. But I am going to follow the light out of this arena. This girl is so much more than just coal. She is light, illuminating the ways of the unknown forest. She is heat, warmth, comfort for me. She is a clever, resourceful survivor. She is a fierce competitor, and will pick off the others quickly if she has to.

What I didn't know was that Katniss was also a beacon, shining bright and attracting all to come and take her on. What I didn't know was that a flame, the light I held so dearly, was also a signal. Anyone can see clearly when you create light for them.

Stand too close to the fire and you get burned.

**Well, what do you think? I will probably be expanding this drabble-shot into a full-blown one-shot for the Starvation Forum's September challenge (this month's prompt being "light"), so if you liked this, keep your eyes out! Remember, everyone knows fanfiction writers live for the reviews.**


	17. District Nine: Dylan Hollander

**Author's Note: Yes, after that long and completely unannounced hiatus, I am inspired and back in action. Sorry, dear readers. I'll try not to fail you again. So without further ado...**

_District Nine: Dylan Hollander_

I never liked fighting. And here I am, throwing myself into the thick of things.

It's ironic, if not hypocritical, really. Here is the boy who worked so hard planning peace at home, struggling for all his life for a stupid backpack.

You could argue that this was different, that my very survival is dependent on this, but that doesn't make it feel any better.

It takes me a minute to identify the girl I'm facing off against. District 12 girl, the one who got an 11 in training. Katnit, something like that? I didn't bother to remember the names.

And this is where I have to make the choice. Do I keep on fighting to survive, though it goes against all of my principles? Or do I let go, fade away, find peace, even if it goes against every instinct, every fiber of my being?

I can hear the knife coming at me, but I don't dodge. Instead, my eyes lock onto the little golden pin fastened to the girl's jacket. A mockingjay-not flying free, but with head bowed in submission, an arrow in its clutch, turning to fight back.

I wonder what she'll choose, if she ever has to make this decision.

_She'll find a way to compromise and thrive, of course. Mockingjays always do._

I hear my own cannon fire. First death of the Games, so that a bird might fly free.

**Everyone knows fanfiction writers live for the reviews.**


	18. District Nine: Francesca Willams

**Author's Note: Not great, but I figured I had to get it out there.**

_District Nine: Francesca Willams_

Our district hasn't had a tribute survive past the first day since the last Quarter Quell. Probably won't have one this year, either.

I mean, look at us. Stare us in the eye, and say with a straight face that we have a decent shot at breaking what our district calls "the curse." Aha, I thought so.

It wouldn't be such a problem if I had decent assurance that none of the other district's "curses" would be broken this year. But no. District 11 has that giant who's sure to get into the final eight. The District 5 girl looks like she has some tricks up her sleeve. And District 12 has so far managed to be unforgettable, breaking down not only curses, but assumptions and barriers as well.

I wouldn't be surprised if they end up breaking down some of the rules of the Games, either.

Too bad I won't be around to see that happen.

**Everyone knows fanfiction writers live for the reviews.**


	19. District Ten: Zacharias Chatl

_District Ten: Zacharias Chatl_

They never knew how hard it was for me. To keep my head up high at the reaping. To run from the Cornucopia. To survive. Even with a crippled leg, no one can ever know.

I can't believe that I've made it past the first day. They all said I'd never survive in the Games, in my condition. They all said a crippled boy would never be able to run away from the Cornucopia fast enough to avoid bloodshed, much less with a backpack full of useful supplies. They all said that I didn't have the strength, the cunning, the spirit. They said, they said, they said. So many things that have already been defied.

They said that District 12 would never produce volunteers in a million years. They said that people could not be lit on fire without being burned. They said that a District 12 tribute could never get higher than a 9 in training. They said that a cripple could never get above a 3 in training. They said that tributes could not openly declare love between each other and expect the Capitol to play into their hands.

They said, they said, they said. Well, now I say this:

_Let the Games begin. And let's not bother with talking this time._

**Everyone knows fanfiction writers live for the reviews.**


	20. District Ten: Marchessa Walker

**Author's Note: Reaching the light at the end of the tunnel, folks! After this is all canon characters. I'm kind of sad...**

**This one is a bit... odd. I don't mean to offend anybody or anything or make any remark about anyone's religious beliefs (you'll get it later), but this is how the character presented herself to me.**

_District Ten: Marchessa Walker_

No matter what the official government of Panem decrees, there is a God in heaven somewhere. That's what Mama always said.

When I was pulled out of District Ten to participate in the Hunger Games, I realized something that always bugged me about that comment. There is a God in heaven-_somewhere_. Somewhere far away, doing something else. Not here.

Because if He was watching us, why would he sit back and do nothing while His people cry out in pain and suffering? Why would He allow such cruel people to rule the world, to send children to fight to their death? What kind of a God would do that? No, he must somehow be cut off from us, and some devil watching Panem in its place.

I have sixty seconds before the nightmare begins. I begin to say a prayer in my head half-heartedly, clinging desperately to the hope that somewhere, somehow, the Lord is listening.

I look around me. It's all a trap, it's all man-made, but I can't help but think that if there's one thing God did for us, it was create the world. The forests and trees that this forsaken arena must have been modeled on, the wide green pastures of District Ten. So much more beautiful than the so-artifical Capitol.

I lock eyes with the girl from District 12, across the circle from me, staring off into the distance. She's brave and strong from the most unexpected of places, talented, skilled, and beautiful. She wears a golden pin with a mockingjay on it-freedom and joy. Something about her gaze shows a girl who's fully real, fully God's, and ready to follow his will and orchestrate a change.

The angels have come at last. I finish my prayer and step off my plate.

_Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven..._

_Alleluia. Amen._


	21. District Eleven: Thresh Johansson

_District Eleven: Thresh Johansson_

That. Girl. Must. Die.

Rue! She said "Rue"! She killed the little girl!

I was supposed to protect that little girl. It was my job to die before she was harmed. But what did I even do, anyways? I hadn't seen her since the last night before the Games. How was I to know?

I find myself storming across the clearing. I don't care if I die-I will avenge little Rue. I may already be a monster, but I will be a monster of retribution.

"What'd you do to that little girl? You kill her?" My voice sounds dark, powerful, booming. It shocks even me.

"No! No, it wasn't me!"

"You said her name. I heard you. You kill her?" I see the knife girl's victim, Fire Girl, face bruised and sliced, backing away in fear-of her attacker, or of me? "You cut her up like you were going to cut up this girl here?"

"No! No, I-" There is no more time for last cries. I lift the stone, the most blunt, brutal weapon I have. "Cato! Cato!"

There is no blood. Only a dent. She collapses onto the ground. I don't feel happy or sad, only angry. I was always angry.

"What'd she mean? About Rue being your ally?"

"I-I-we teamed up," Fire Girl explains. "Blew up the supplies. I tried to save her, I did. But he got there first. District One."

District One, not Two. I raged at the wrong person, killed an innocent child, who had a home and a family and maybe even a district mourning her, like Rue. I am no longer the monster of retribution. Just a monster.

"And you killed him?"

"Yes. I killed him. And buried her in flowers. And I sang her to sleep."

These Games make us all monsters. Except one. Except the Girl Who Was On Fire, the girl who protected and avenged and comforted a little dying girl from District 11. The girl who was everything I failed to be.

"Do it fast, okay Thresh?"

She knows her time is coming. She doesn't expect me to care about anything more than my own survival. But that's what a monster would do, and I am not a monster. I am Thresh Johansson. I tried everything I could but failed. I must respect the person who succeeded, even if it costs me my life. Because it's the honorable thing to do.

**I know it's not that original, but... everyone knows fanfiction writers live for the reviews. Don't let me down, guys.**


	22. District Eleven: Rue Malinka

**Author's Note: This is it. The last chapter. Just so you know, I won't be doing any more of these after Rue. Not Peeta, or Haymitch, or Effie, or any Caatching Fire characters. I've had a hard enough time working on this fic, and I think I've developed a new procedure for writing multi-chapter fics-finish before posting.**

**I'd like to thank all my readers, who encouraged me to keep on writing even after that horrible winter hiatus. You are amazing to take the time to read this strange collection of disparate thoughts without even a good storyline. You really make my day and keep me believing in myself and my writing, and I hope to do the same for some of you.**

**Adieu,**

**Amata**

_District 11: Rue Malinka_

_Deep in the meadow, under the willow_

_A bed of grass, a soft green pillow_

_Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes_

_And when again they open, the sun will rise._

Her voice is so beautiful, wafting across the forest clearing. Even the mockingjays stopped singing to listen. She's endangering herself, but she does it anyway, and tears fall from her eyes.

_Here it's safe, here it's warm_

_Here the daisies guard you from every harm_

_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you._

Dad once told me that there are about 5,400 species of animals that can sing, but only one that sings while it walks on the ground-us. He also said that we are the only animals that can sing together-two mockingjays can be singing the same tune at the same time, but all they're doing is singing next to each other. And if we all sing together loud enough, our hearts start to beat together.

_Deep in the meadow, hidden far away_

_A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray_

_Forget your woes and let your troubles lay_

_And when again it's morning, they'll wash away._

I know my heart beats with Katniss. My family's heart beats with me. Somewhere far away, the hearts of the people in the districts are beating with Katniss. Maybe the mockingjays can't sing with us, but we can sing with them.

_Here it's safe, here it's warm_

_Here the daisies guard you from every harm_

I'm dying, leaving my body and the arena, flying away like a mockingjay. Katniss can't yet, but I don't want her to. She can make my heart beat with her voice, she can make a thousand hearts beat together. Mockingjays will never know that. But with all of Panem singing together, the Girl on Fire can lead a rebellion.

_Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true_

_Here is the place where I love you._

_**Fin**_


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